


A Christmas Melody

by The_Tevinter_Biscuit



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Busking, Christmas Fluff, Cold Weather, Fluff and Angst, Homelessness, M/M, Musician Fenris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 05:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Tevinter_Biscuit/pseuds/The_Tevinter_Biscuit
Summary: On Hawke's walk to work, he is more than captivated by the street performer who plays his guitar in the city centre. It's getting dangerously cold outside as Christmas approaches and he figures he needs to do something to help him.





	A Christmas Melody

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended listening: The Christmas Song by Owl City
> 
> this fic is mostly dedicated to my irl pal Olivia who really loves musician Fenris and was with me when i came up with the idea for this fic, after we walked past a street performer the other week. so here we are!
> 
> this is also a contribution to my Fenris Appreciation Month 2k17 being run on tumblr. this is for day 24 (so im a little early) which is for Modern AUs! enjoy!

When he walked through the city centre, there was one thing Hawke always noticed. Off to the side of the busiest part of the city was a street performer. It was hard not to notice him with his bone white hair and swirling tattoos. The enchanting melody plucked from his guitar strings and deep, gravelly voice always made Hawke’s walk to work more joyful.

Piles of bags and belongings remained at his feet next to the open guitar case for tips. Hawke didn’t want to make assumptions, but it seemed pretty clear that the performer was living rough. It started off by simply flipping him pocket change, whatever he had laying around inside his wallet. Gradually, the pay increased until he was purposefully bringing money to give to him. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, to offer him so much that he might refuse his charity. Pride was a weight on everyone’s shoulders.

Each time he left him something, the performer would smile a little at him. Hawke couldn’t tell if he was just being polite and trying to milk more charity out of him, but he didn’t really care. The point was the act of giving made him feel good and the reward of his smile was enough to make his stomach feel all warm and fuzzy inside. After all, the performer was a handsome man. A strong jaw and sharp, flat nose. One time he got close enough to notice that his eyes were a beautiful hunter green. Those tattoos definitely told a story from the way they crawled up his arms, over his neck, and ending with two lines curling up to his lips from his chin. A man didn’t get extensive tattoos like that without a story. Hawke fancied himself interested.

When the Christmas season came along, the performer delighted the city centre with the traditional Christmas songs. Even the people who usually paid him little notice, could be seen bobbing their head slightly to the sound of the music. It was a joyful time of year. Sparkling lights had been put up around the streets, a vast Christmas tree adorned with colourful decorations was placed right in the middle of the city. It just made everything that little bit brighter.

However, the more pressing issue on Hawke’s mind was the weather. Given it was now December, the freezing temperatures had swiftly arrived. There had been a little snow but not much. He knew that within time, Kirkwall would be coated in a thick layer of snow. The performer was dressed only in a t-shirt, light jacket, a pair of skinny jeans and some worn out boots. There was no way he wasn’t cold in this weather. In fact, Hawke began to notice the flush of red over his face, the way his fingers trembled from the cold as he plucked the strings of his guitar. It was amazing that he could even play like that.

Hawke decided he was going to do something about it.

On this particular day, he got up earlier than usual in order to stop by a shop before work. He picked out a pair of black, thick, fingerless gloves. After all, the performer couldn’t play with his fingers covered. There wasn’t a lot he could do about that, but it should at least provide some warmth to his hands. He had been tempted to go all the way to buy him a nice warm winter coat as well, but figured he might not accept it.

Gloves in hand, he returned to his usual route to work and sure enough the performer was playing in his usual spot. Hawke stopped to listen. He’d never spoken to the performer before, he didn’t even know what his name was. However, it felt like they loosely knew each other because of how often he made the effort to walk past and drop him some money in his guitar case. He didn’t do bad for himself, there was often a scattering of change in the case when he put his own money down. However, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was using that money simply to eat. The world was a sad place.

When the performer finished his song, he moved his hands away from the guitar and reached down to pick up a bottle of water that was by his feet and took a big gulp. Hawke took a deep breath. Well, it was now or never. Hopefully, he didn’t take it the wrong way. He just wanted to help.

“Hey,” he said. The performer turned to look at him as he approached. There was a hint of caution in his eyes, nervousness and anxiety swirling around. His shoulders stood rigid as he regarded Hawke with concern rather than the fondness he usually did when he tipped him money. Like a deer in the headlights, Hawke thought. He couldn’t let that sway him from his purpose. “My name’s Hawke. I uh, really like your music. I walk by here every morning, maybe you’ve noticed. You have a lot of talent, you know? But it’s so cold and you’re…really not dressed for the weather. I wouldn’t want you to freeze to death out here, it would make my walk to work much less entertaining,” he laughed nervously. “So… I hope you don’t mind but instead of tipping today I got you a little something. Just to help.”

He held out the gloves towards the performer who stared at him with dark, furrowed eyebrows. There was hesitance, but he slowly reached out and took them from him, much to Hawke’s joy. He waited while he inspected them, checking them inside and out. What he was looking or checking for, Hawke had no idea.

“Are you sure?” is what he eventually said.

“Of course! Your hands must be _freezing_. I thought that getting you full gloves might hinder your ability to play your guitar,” Hawke explained, nodding at him.

The performer still looked wary of him, but he slipped on the gloves. Hawke grinned at him while he admired the comfort and warmth of them, even though his fingers were still mostly exposed. Curiously, he took his guitar back in his hand and plucked a few of the strings. He could still play with the gloves on.

“Thank you,” he said, a flush of pink on his cheeks. Hawke’s heart hammered in his chest. There was no denying that the performer was incredibly cute. He wished he could help him more but the fear of seeming like a creep was ever present on his mind.

“No problem. I look forward to hearing you play again tomorrow morning. Have a fantastic day!” Hawke told him, waving as he walked away. He was going to be late to work but it was definitely worth it.

 

The following day, the performer was still wearing the gloves Hawke had bought him as he played. Hawke’s eyes lit up when he noticed, and he waved with a smile at the performer, who smiled politely back at him. As usual, he left a generous tip in his guitar case. There was no way to explain how good he felt giving him those gloves, especially when he knew they were going to good use.

However, as the weather got more intense and more people decided to use their cars to get around, the performer’s tips got smaller while he got colder. Hawke still made an effort to wrap up as best he could just so he could walk by and hear his songs. That tip he gave him every day probably meant a lot to him, so he wanted to keep giving. No one deserved to be cold and hungry in the Christmas season, but he was willing to bet that it was more common than he’d like to admit.

On one particular day, Hawke didn’t have work. He’d taken a couple days off around Christmas, not that he needed to. The truth was he no longer had any family to spend it with. But he always took time off when the season came around, it felt weird to not do it. Besides, he wanted to keep paying the performer given how cold it was outside and the layer of snow that coated the ground. He didn’t know if he would even be there. Maker only knew if it were him, he wouldn’t be playing out in this weather.

As it turned out, he was. His face was flushed with red, fingers trembling. Hawke had wrapped up tight for this weather: a scarf, hat, gloves, big winter coat, sturdy boots. Of course, his thick bushy beard definitely helped to keep him warm too. His heart swelled at the sight of the poor performer. The guitar case was barren from what he could see. It was only partially open, perhaps to not get the snow inside it. He couldn’t just walk away from him. If he stayed out here like that, he was bound to get sick or worse.

“Hi. It’s…me again. Hawke. Do you remember me?” he said, approaching the performer cautiously while he wasn’t playing. The performer looked him up and down, sniffling a little, and nodded. “Awesome. Uh, look, it’s super cold out here. There’s no one really around much. Being out here can’t be good for your health, not while you’re dressed like that,” he gestured to the performer’s outfit. “You can turn me down of course but I’d _really_ like to buy you a coffee or something. There’s a nice little coffee shop around the corner. It’s warm in there and maybe I could buy you a hot drink, maybe something to eat? I’m going to go anyway so it’s...up to you. I just wouldn’t want something to happen to you out here.”

“…Why do you want to do that for me?” the performer asked after a brief moment of silence. His voice was a little raspy.

“Because…well…if you stay out here much longer, you’re going to get sick or something. What kind of asshole do I have to be to want to leave you out here to die in this weather? I just want to help, I promise. I don’t have anywhere else to be or anyone to see. It’s not a bother. To be honest, it would make me feel so much better knowing you’re okay,” Hawke explained. “So…come with me to the coffee shop? I’ll even help you carry your things.”

The performer reluctantly let Hawke pick up some of his bags by his feet. He put his guitar back in the case and swung it over his shoulder. Hawke could tell he was wary of him, but luckily when he turned to start walking towards the coffee shop, he followed.

Marethari’s was a quaint little place that he frequented mostly because his friend Merrill worked as a barista there. He wouldn’t say the two of them were particularly close, but she was nice to chat to when he got lonely. When the two of them entered, it wasn’t too busy. Most people didn’t want to make the trek out into the cold to get there but some people had obviously come in to escape the cold.

Hawke approached the barista at the counter, looking around Merrill was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she wasn’t working this particular day. He ordered a café latte for himself, then turned to the performer to ask him what he wanted. It was hard to probe something out of him but in the end, he settled for a hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll. When it was ready, the two carried their items to a table in the corner and sat down across from each other.

“So, what’s your name?” Hawke asked, setting the performer’s bags down by his feet and taking off his hat, scarf, and gloves now he was indoors and warm. It seemed weird that he was so familiar with the performer, seeing him every day on his walk to work, and even buying him those fingerless gloves he was wearing, and yet he didn’t even know his name.

“Fenris,” the performer said.

Huh. Different. Though, Hawke wasn’t exactly the most normal name either. It was his surname, but the nickname had been given to him in high school because there was more than one Garrett in his class, it just stuck after that. Regardless, it was nice to finally put a name to the face. Fenris. Cute.

“Well it’s nice to properly meet you Fenris,” he said, smiling warmly at him. Fenris wrapped his hands around the mug containing his hot chocolate and looked down into it, no doubt warming his frozen fingers. “Is uh, performing out there with your guitar what you do for a living? You’re really good.”

“Yes,” Fenris replied.

Maker, he wasn’t very talkative, was he? It seemed like Hawke was going to have to do all the talking, hopefully warm him up a bit for conversation. He didn’t know much about Fenris but what he did know was he was very cautious and shaky. It was like he was always on edge, always looking out for something.

“I always walk past when I’m on my way to work. Always a good start to my morning,” Hawke said with a hum. He reached for his café latte and took a long sip.

“Where do you work?” Fenris asked and it gave Hawke pause. This was the first time since they’d sat down in this coffee shop that he’d said more than one word to him. It seemed to take a little bit of probing to get him to come out of his shell, but he was surely making progress. He also noticed that he had looked up at him, flashing those beautiful eyes at him.

So, he smiled at him and said: “Amell Inc. I, uh, actually own the place now. Inherited it from my parents who got it from theirs. I don’t need to go in to the offices as much as I do but I like to know who works for me, gives it that personal touch, you know? Besides, the walk to work means I get to hear your music every day.”

Fenris faltered, looking back down into the hot chocolate as a flush seemed to cover his cheeks.

“You are…awfully persistent, aren’t you?” he said. Hawke’s raised his eyebrows. Could it hurt to lay on a bit of charm?

“Perhaps. You deserve every bit of flattery though, you _are_ excellent. I’m surprised you’re not a professional musician. And as for all this? I’d have to be a monster to leave a handsome face like that out in the cold,” he chuckled.

If Fenris was uncomfortable with the light flirting, he didn’t show it. In fact, he swore that he saw the inklings of a smirk twitch on Fenris’s lips at the compliment. He quickly shielded it by taking the first big gulp of his hot chocolate. He groaned at the taste of it as it went down. It was obvious that he hadn’t had something hot to drink in a long time.

From that, they managed to settle into small talk in order to get to know each other a bit better. Hawke told him all about his dog Biscuit, and in return Fenris told him that he’d never owned a pet. A tragedy, if Hawke did say so himself. Hawke’s favourite colour was red and Fenris said he didn’t have one. There were many such trivialities they learnt about each other. Hawke particularly took note of Fenris’s comment on how he liked fruits (especially apples), and sweet foods. The idea of him having a sweet tooth was unbearably cute. However, more importantly he learnt that Fenris was indeed living on the streets. He was getting by with the money he earned busking, but it definitely wasn’t enough to get him anywhere. Hawke’s tips had made a great deal of difference to how he lived his life.

“Forgive me if it’s rude to ask, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I am curious. How did you…end up here? What happened?” Hawke asked. Both of them had finished their hot drinks and Fenris was eating the remains of his cinnamon roll. To his surprise, Fenris didn’t seem to mind.

“I…wasn’t in a good place, in a bad relationship. It was he who had me learn to play the guitar, liked watching me perform and having me perform for others. Intended to make money off me, for sure. But I…I didn’t want to be controlled like that anymore and I left. But he…was my life. My food, my shelter. I am happy to be finally free of his grasp, but it hasn’t been easy. And I hope that he’s seething to know that I’m allowing people to listen to my music for free, letting them give me only what they wish,” he explained. Hawke blinked owlishly at him and slowly reached over to take his hands in his. Fenris did not pull away, in fact he shifted forwards to allow him to hold his hands. “I have not…told anyone this before. No one has cared to ask. Thank you.”

Hawke thought that if Fenris wanted to tell him every aspect of his life, he would be willing to listen. His voice was beautiful. It was tragic that someone had treated him the way they had. He didn’t know the extent of this bad relationship, but whatever had happened, it was clearly the reason that Fenris was so jumpy.

“I’m glad you got out of that relationship then. You deserve so much better,” Hawke told him, rubbing his thumbs over his fingers. “…May I ask you something else?”

“Sure,” Fenris said.

“Christmas isn’t far away. I don’t have any family coming to see me, I usually just see a couple friends around the time. But…you don’t have anywhere to be. I’d be more than happy for you to come stay with me. I have a guest room and you can see me as little as you want. But I understand if you don’t want to. However, I was hoping that maybe you would…spend Christmas with me?” he offered.

The silence that fell between them was enough to make Hawke worry. He was going to say no, he was pushing the boundaries too much. And to think they were doing so well. They were holding hands and making small talk. Fenris had even revealed something incredibly personal.

“…I might like that,” Fenris said and Hawke didn’t quite take it in at first.

“Wait, really?” he asked.

“Yes,” he said.

Hawke beamed at him. He laced their fingers together and squeezed lightly before he could register funny what he was doing. Then he spoke: “Sounds like a date.”

Fenris only chuckled.


End file.
